Elegy of Indolence
by Three Yellow Triangles
Summary: Luigi observed many things during his stay at the Comet Observatory, not least of which was the princess of the cosmos.


Luigi had spent countless hours, days, strolling around the observatory with his face arched towards the stars. It was refreshing, to take a break from watching his feet shuffle. To have a reason to tilt his chin up and not be afraid of making eye contact. How could anyone fear the warm gaze of the celestial streetlights? Just thinking about seeing them filled him to the brim with comforting thoughts, ones that had felt so foreign in years past. Not infrequently had he, unaware of anything but the purple blanket in the sky, tumbled off the side, only to be gravitated back onto the surface level of the observatory. As jarring as it was, he quickly recovered. His brother made a game of it; he was of course accustomed to the bizarre varying levels of gravity, having traversed dozens of planets, all of whose gravitational pulls were diverse from any others. Luigi didn't care for that, though. Even the relatively mild weakened pull of the observatory unnerved him. The idea of him jumping from meteor to meteor, blasting through space like a superhero... he was content to behold the beauty of space from a distance.

The Lumas provided another great source of interest for the mustachioed man-in-green. He marveled at the idea that such a tiny, unsuspecting being could easily morph into a celestial body several thousand times larger than their own. He'd seen the process once, when Mario had fed a Luma star bits in exchange for new zones to frolic around in. A sentient being, exchanged for a change in scenery. Luigi would have been horrified at the thought of a creature giving up consciousness to be an inanimate rock, floating around space without purpose - yes, he would have been stolen of his wits by the notion if the Lumas weren't so eager. Creepily eager at that. He decided that he would, if the fate of everything was hinging on it, transform into a geological formation; he just couldn't see himself yearning, anticipating it with bated breath.

Not only were they like a strange inversion of suicide bombers, they were also friend, at least when they weren't volunteering to sacrifice themselves. Then they were a little hyper and impatient, starting to complain if star bits weren't being hurled into their mouths constantly. But usually they were nice enough and sometimes accompanied Luigi on his star-gazing walks, tugging on his arm to stop him from hurtling over the edge if necessary. Luigi appreciated having someone watching his back; he'd missed the feeling ever since Mario had began his romp across the universe. It wouldn't be too long until they were both back at their cozy cabin in the Mushroom Kingdom, he believed. The Observatory was glowing brighter with every passing day. Though it didn't require all of the lost power stars for it to serve it's true purpose of flying through space, Mario, unsurprisingly, wanted to recover every Power Star. Luigi had known him to be a little obsessive, and often recalled moments from their past adventures as evidence: his slightly shorter twin would spend hours combing the land for every last Shrine Sprite, Gold Coin, or whatever various collectibles were littered about.

There was one other major facet of the observatory that his subconscious gravitated toward: Rosalina. Luigi, though he spent the majority of his time feverishly admiring them, felt that the beauty of the stars paled in comparison to it's guardian. Upon his first glimpse of her, his knees grew wobbly and he quietly excused himself to his temporary living quarters. She was the closest thing to an angel he had ever seen. The brilliance of the stars that the two of them so cherished radiated through her skin. The patterns of the cosmos were weaved upon her dress. Galaxies were born at the wagging of her finger.

Luigi wasn't a shallow person, however, and decided that no matter how beautiful she was he needed to get to know her better personally. That was the mistake he'd made with Daisy - her prettiness and commanding voice veiled her dull personality - she left him feeling weary about relationships and women in general. As it was he lacked the tenacity for the whole "personal" aspect, and instead watched her from afar, hoping he wasn't noticed and made out to be a creepy stalker. He did note that she frequented the library and could often be found perusing the stars through her telescope, browsing them like a scrapbook, as if they were memories that she was re-visiting. It occurred to him that she and her companions had explored a greater reach of space than likely anyone else in the galaxy - er, universe. He still slipped and forgot that the world expanded beyond his home galaxy every now and then. Rosalina loved space with a zeal Luigi had rarely seen in anyone. He wondered how hard it was on her, to remain motionless in the same dusty corner of the cosmos, waiting until the day she was able to traverse the macrocosm once more.

And to think that Luigi hardly ever went within five miles of his home unless it was for the fate of the kingdom. His life seemed awfully mundane next to her's. What interest could the celestial princess derive from a boring mortal who spent his free time watching classic films? Though, he considered, that might be a little unfair on his part. She did seem to enjoy talking with Mario whenever he stood still for more than three seconds. It wasn't as if Mario had a romantic interest in Rosalina; his heart was with Peach at all times. Luigi was often privy to his brother's worries and frustration about how the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom was at the mercy of a reptilian megalomaniac. His brother had lost countless hours of sleep to those thoughts. No, Mario wasn't the type to start yearning after women while his girlfriend was away. So perhaps Luigi did stand a chance. He wondered at how lucky he was to have met such a girl; one who loved to read and peruse the astral sheets and yet possessed immense beauty and charm. His life was going nowhere: it was probable that he would most likely be remembered as the guy from the slightly-larger than normal footnote in his brother's grand life. There were petitions to make the tales of Mario's odysseys required reading in public schools, for Pete's sake.

It would only spiral further into a pit if he didn't take action. His convictions had solidified. Yes, he had to. The shadow of his brother, he whose actions would determine which Prognosticus would be fulfilled, the one who made ghosts quiver - had finally garnered the courage to say hello to the target of his admiration. Yes, he would go knock at the door of the library right this second - or maybe tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow is always a better time for doing life-changing things. Don't want to be rash about it.

...

Dear god, he was hopeless.


End file.
